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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27342181">Fractions</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rareID/pseuds/rareID'>rareID</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Owl House (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged Up, F/F, Mental Instability, Since this is a one shot the story is pretty mellow, Still rating this thing M because I know how my brain works, compared to what it would become if I continued it, dark themes, implied distruction</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:20:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27342181</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rareID/pseuds/rareID</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Years have passed, and they’ve not been kind. Luz, the once optimistic child, is a broken adult in a fragmented world of horrors.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amity Blight/Luz Noceda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fractions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N: This is a one-shot. I will not continue this. Characters aged up. Enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>Luz stares at her hands. How long has she been sitting here, spaced out? She turns her head towards the clock, only to realize that it's broken and she doesn't remember when she sat down. She scratches her jaw with a slight frown. That should be concerning, right?</p><p>She blinks when she realizes Amity is staring at her from the doorway to the kitchen. "Am I supposed to be doing something?" Luz asks. She wouldn't be surprised if she'd made plans today, though they couldn't have been too important if she didn't write it on the back of her hand.</p><p>With hesitation, Luz flips her hands over and stares at them. The skin is stained a washed-out black from the ink she's written and washed off them as if they were whiteboards. When was it that she could no longer fully get the ink out? A year ago? Two? More?</p><p>Luz gently slaps her cheek with one hand and focuses on the small note written on the other. '<em>Fireworks with Eda, noon</em>' it reads. There's no date. Luz narrows her eyes and tries to remember if this has happened already or if she's still obligated to attend.</p><p>"What time is it?" Luz asks into the silence.</p><p>When the silence persists, Luz raises her gaze to question her partner—but Amity isn't there.</p><p>It takes Luz a moment to register what that means. Her shoulders slump. "Ah." She needs to remember to confirm that what she sees is real or not. Why doesn't she have a note of that on the back of her hand?</p><p>Luz pushes from the couch and makes her way into the kitchen. She doesn't bother glancing around to see if it's empty; she learned a long time ago during the Convergence War that it doesn't necessarily matter if you <em>see</em> something. <em>The Emperor sure fucked that up, didn't he?</em> Luz thinks with a crooked smile. She hardly remembers his name anymore.</p><p>Stopping at a hanging cupboard door, Luz tips it open with a finger and grabs a cracked inkwell. It doesn't leak, so Luz doesn't see the point in throwing it out. That, or Eda's trash obsession finally started rubbing off on her.</p><p><em>How many years has it been?</em> she idly wonders. Must be almost eight by now, right?</p><p>Luz dips a pen into the ink, but hesitates before writing on the back of her hand. Her hands are the spots she writes short-term notes that need to be washed off within hours or days. The information she needs to write now certainly doesn't fall under that criteria.</p><p>With a soft hum, Luz puts the pen down and pulls up her sleeve—and freezes. On her forearm, in bold letters, is the tattoo, '<strong>Apparition or real: confirm</strong>.'</p><p>Huh. So, she's recognized this issue in the past and had this engrained in her skin as a response, which is good. But why does she have it covered up, she wonders? She glances at the window as if the outside world could help answer her inner turmoil, only to blink when she sees the glass boarded up.</p><p>It takes her a moment to remember boarding it up with Eda countless summers ago in a panic. It takes her a little longer to recall <em>why</em> the windows had to be covered.</p><p>Like the flick of a lightbulb, it all comes back to her. Luz's breath hitches in her throat and her eyes widen. Memories of a battle, of blood and wounds, and death. Memories of broken ground and shattered air as if the tears in reality housed a thousand mirror shards. Memories of spirits rising from the earth and holes in the sky.</p><p>The only good thing about that day was that the Emperor had fallen under the exact nightmare he caused. The bad was . . . everything else.</p><p>Luz's arms are shaking when she comes back to herself, and her vision is dim from what she knows is lack of oxygen. She takes a moment to lengthen her shallow breathing. It works, until the memories resurface like waves of the ocean, dipping in and out of consciousness.</p><p>Before Luz can fully control herself, she hears the creak of the front door open, then close.</p><p>The intruder huffs a soft sound of surprise. "Luz?" It's a female voice, tired, and very distinctive.</p><p>Luz feels a smile pulling at her lips despite the warning clearly splayed on her arm. A calmness settles over her chest. "Kitchen, Amity."</p><p>A thump. Footsteps.</p><p>Luz turns around and leans against the counter, waiting.</p><p>Amity appears in the doorway. A smile pulls at her lips when her eyes land on Luz, but she doesn't move from her spot.</p><p>Luz glances over Amity, curious. Her partner's bloodshot eyes have bags under them. Her hands are shaking. Her clothes are sullied. All and all, Amity looks pretty good after returning from a trip into the haunted Wastelands.</p><p>Amity's eyes fall to Luz's pulled up sleeve, to the pitch-black ink that stains it. Her tired eyes narrow into a sharp focus. "Oh." Her expression is pained but hopeful when she meets Luz's gaze again. "I was wondering why you looked more alert."</p><p>That's why Luz covers her arm, she knows now. Looking at it reminds her of everything that's happened. Hiding it makes it easier to forget, easier to suppress—easier to live with reality.</p><p>Instead of voicing the thrashing resistance in her head, Luz pulls her lips in what she hopes is a welcoming smile. "You haven't confirmed."</p><p>That eases some of the tension in Amity's shoulders. "Neither have you."</p><p>With effortlessness that can only come from practice, both women pull out knives they always have sheathed on their person. They walk towards each other as they make small cuts in their chosen finger. Luz doesn't need her memory to know she's done this a thousand times before—the scars littering the pads of her fingers speak for themselves.</p><p>The women stop when they get into arm's reach of each other. They both raise their hands. Luz hovers her bleeding finger over Amity's knife hand. She dips her finger without moving her arm to smear a light line of blood on Amity's skin.</p><p>Luz waits for Amity to do the same before stepping back and examining the blood on the back of her hand. She pulls a small paper glyph out of her pocket and places it over top of crimson, then taps it. There's a thoughtful pause before the paper burns up in a soft emerald green.</p><p>This time when Luz smiles, it's from relief. She waits until Amity has completed her own confirmation before shoving her knife back in the sheath on her hip. She lunges forward and pulls Amity into a tight hug. "I missed you."</p><p>Amity smiles into Luz's neck. "I'm surprised you realized I was gone."</p><p>Luz decides not to mention that she didn't. That's one curse of willing all her problems away, she supposes; she forgets what matters. "I always miss you," she supplies instead. It's not a complete lie.</p><p>Amity chuckles and pulls away only enough to place a soft kiss on Luz's cheek. "Thank you." Her tone implies she understands the undertone of untruth, but she decides not to focus on it. She's probably just enjoying this—rarer—moment of Luz being fully present and aware of her past and surroundings.</p><p>Over Amity's shoulder, Luz spots another Amity standing in the middle of the living room, staring. With the blink of an eye, the image is gone. <em>The Wards are weakening</em>, she thinks. It means she and Amity will have to reinforce all the boundaries of the house while attached at the hip at all times. The last thing either of them want is having to confirm their realness with each other every five seconds.</p><p>Luz releases a heavy groan and buries her nose into Amity's shoulder. "I know you just got back and you're tired, but—"</p><p>"I know," Amity sighs, before Luz can finish. She rests her cheek against the side of Luz's head. "I'm looking at a very striking image of you, right now."</p><p>"Is it pretty?"</p><p>"Aesthetically," Amity answers vaguely, not that she needs to elaborate. She and Eda had mentioned how they can tell fake versions of Luz on sight because of the . . . <em>oddness</em> of them. Apparitions can never seem to get Luz right, apparently. Luz suspects it's not for any good reasons.</p><p>Despite the obvious issue, neither of them moves from the embrace.</p><p><em>A testament to how long we've been dealing with this mess, I guess</em>, Luz thinks. The thought sends an irritating chill through her skin that raises the hairs on her arms. "When do you want to deal with it?"</p><p>Amity slumps, shifting much of her weight into Luz, like a deflating balloon, only heavier. "I don't," she croaks.</p><p>After dealing with the Wastelands, Luz doesn't blame her.</p><p>After the history they've had in this hellscape, Luz doesn't blame herself for nodding along in agreement. "Let's go sleep, then." They'll have to do the confirmation test again once they wake up since the leakage in the house hasn't been fixed, but at least they'll have some rest under their belts.</p><p>The question is whether or not Luz's mind will be with her when she wakes up.</p><p>By the way Amity hesitates, Luz assumes she's thinking along the same lines.</p><p>With a heavy sigh, Amity pulls away while keeping her hand intertwined with Luz's. Conscious physical contact is the only way to maintain a verification. "Let's get the tools."</p><p><em>You want to keep my mind around more than I do</em>. Already Luz's mind is screaming to retreat into the darkness it was dragged from, but she can hold on for a while longer if it makes her partner happy.</p><p>Luz squeezes Amity's hand softly. "I'll stay with you." She doesn't mean physically—that part's obvious.</p><p>Tears well in Amity's eyes, and her lips spread into a watery grin. "I love you, too."</p><p>What does it say about her, Luz wonders, that choosing to hold onto agonizing sanity is a sign of love? Instead of thinking about it, she returns Amity's grin and plants a kiss on the tip of her partner's nose. <em>You're worth the pain</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: Will I explain the lore of this short after painstakingly figuring it all out just so I could write less than 2k? No, I will not. You're welcome.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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